The Trio de Dangers' Four-Hour Recruitment Adventure
by MrTyeDye
Summary: The Tournament of Power will begin in four hours, and Universe 9's team still consists of only three warriors. The Trio de Dangers have one-sixth of a day to find seven other fighters to join them, or their universe will face disqualification - and immediate erasure.
1. The Journey Begins!

It was the darkest hour for the Trio de Dangers.

The three wolves stood at the precipice with their heads hung low, whimpering at the sight of the ravaged cityscape below. There were explosions going off every second, courtesy of myriad gangs of rioters, looters and armed thugs, all taking sadistic joy in setting the streets ablaze with their high-caliber weapons.

"I'm the king of this planet!" roared a bearded, eye patch-wearing rogue, as he fired his rocket launcher directly into a crowd of pedestrians.

Neither Bergamo nor Lavenda nor Basil could peel their eyes away from the carnage. As chilling and disheartening as the spectacle was, it paled in comparison to the devastating glares of the two deities standing beside them. The three of them expected their God of Destruction, Sidra, to start cutting into them any second now.

It took them by surprise, then, when his normally blithe angel attendant Mojito was the one who broke the silence.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Mojito pulled back his silvery bangs like a curtain to reveal a stinging side-eye. The Trio de Dangers, cowed by Mojito's rare display of irritation, all started talking over each other in a disorganized attempt to explain the situation.

"I'm very sorry!" cried Basil.

"Those guys learned of the universe erasure and started a revolt!" blurted Lavenda.

"They plan to abandon this universe and escape to another," continued Bergamo.

Mojito responded with a teeth-gritting scowl, through which a breathy grunt of despair escaped.

"So..." Sidra said, turning to face the Trio de Dangers. His bushy orange eyebrows arched downward and his skin tightened across his bald forehead. "How many warriors have you gathered?"

The Trio de Dangers balked at the question. Sidra knew damn well that the answer was "nobody". He _had_ to know. If they had managed to recruit anyone for the Tournament of Power, why would they be facing their God of Destruction alone, their heads hung in shame?

But Sidra, it seemed, wanted to hear the truth straight from the horse's mouth - or straight from the wolves' mouths, rather. He wanted to hear the three of them admit that, in the 43 hours since the Omni-King Z'eno announced the multiversal tournament, they had failed to find anyone to join their team.

Which they did.

"N-nobody aside from us," Basil choked out, as his blood red fur was sent aflutter by his quivering.

"We're very sorry!" the three of them cried in unison.

Without another word, Sidra, maintaining his stern, brow-furrowed expression, turned back towards the war-torn city and extended his hand towards it.

" _Hakai!_ "

As soon as the last syllable left his lips, a ball of violet light was planted in the center of the city, and expanded until it engulfed everything in the vicinity- buildings, streets, vehicles, bandits, innocent bystanders and pedestrians, everything. Once engulfed, they disintegrated into thousands of infinitesimal violet granules, which then vanished into the ether, never to be seen again. The Trio de Dangers could faintly hear the agonized screams of the city's denizens as their bodies were eradicated, atom by atom, until literally nothing remained.

Before they knew it, the city had vanished, leaving in its place an enormous crater, illuminated by some of the still-lingering flickers of violet light. For any mortal, this would have been a traumatizing scene to witness. For Sidra? It was business as usual.

"As you've probably gleaned by now, Sidra and I are very disappointed in the three of you," said Mojito. "But all is not lost. You have one last chance to redeem yourselves."

The Trio de Dangers twiddled their paws, unsure of how to feel about the ultimatum. On one hand, they felt honored that the Gods weren't willing to give up on them just yet. On the other, they only had a paltry four and a half hours left until the Tournament of Power. They'd have to work like hell to make that second chance count for anything.

Mojito tapped the orb atop his staff, causing it to display a compact holographic projection of Universe 9. Mojito tapped it again, and the hologram zoomed in on some remote corner of the universe: one almost completely void of matter, aside from a single turquoise-colored dwarf planet.

"There exists a lone planet in the farthest reaches of the universe, lightyears away from any other," said Mojito. "Planet Parika. For eons, they've remained a peaceful, self-sufficient ecosystem, isolated from the other goings-on of Universe 9. It's virtually guaranteed that the news of the Tournament of Power hasn't reached them yet."

"And you waited until now to tell us about this?!" cried Lavenda.

Bergamo grabbed the golden-haired middle child by the fur on his pronounced hunch, and yanked him away from Mojito. "Peace, Lavenda," he hissed. "Do not raise your voice to a deity."

Mojito, unfazed by Lavenda's outburst, continued. "War and violence are rare on Planet Parika, and the few denizens who _are_ battle-trained engage in combat for sport, not survival."

He gave Lavenda a pointed look. " _That_ was why we hadn't mentioned the planet until now. Its warriors lack the adversity-borne toughness and precision that the three of you have been blessed with. Sidra and I had hoped that you would be able to find other warriors who shared your gift."

Mojito's tone turned grave, while his fingers tightened their grasp around his scepter. "But you couldn't. As such, our only option is to turn to the planet that _isn't_ being torn apart by bandits."

Without another word, Mojito rapped the base on the staff on the ground, causing a circle of blinding light to radiate out from the point of impact. Bubbles of bright yellow light sprouted from the circle and swarmed around the five beings like angry wasps. More and more of them filled the immediate space around them, until they merged into an opaque, blindingly luminous bubble. The bubble launched itself into the atmosphere and beyond, taking the five beings along for the ride.

The thirty minutes it took to traverse the distance through space were, quite possibly, the longest thirty minutes Bergamo, Lavenda and Basil ever had to endure. Throughout the trip, none of them could bring themselves to say a word to Sidra or Mojito, or even look them in the eye - which was especially painful, since they had a plethora of questions they wanted to ask.

The very idea of a peaceful planet existing in Universe 9, the multiverse's ghetto, seemed borderline fantastical to the three brothers. They were raised in war-ravaged squalor, and found few mortals who weren't in their travels across the universe. Quite frankly, they had trouble imagining what a peaceful civilization would even _look_ like.

Thankfully, it wouldn't be too long before they saw one. Through the transparent wall of the warp cube, they could see a lone speck in the otherwise empty abyss, directly in their path. The speck grew into a dot, then a circle, then a fully formed sphere. As the sphere grew in size, the features covering its surface - continents, oceans, islands - became clearer and clearer.

"You have four hours to find seven other teammates," said Sidra. "And you are _not_ to tell them that our universe is risking erasure. There's no telling how they'll take that news, and given what we've seen so far, I do not want to take that chance."

"Understood, Sidra," said Bergamo.

As soon as they entered the planet's atmosphere, the trip was practically over. The cube blazed through the atmospheric layers at breakneck speed, reducing the world around them to a bluish-green blur. Before they knew it, they were touching down on a stony plateau, overlooking a small but lively village.

Having spent a half hour surrounded by the vaccum of space, the Trio de Dangers needed to take a moment to reorient themselves and allow their eyes to readjust. Compared to the hellish scene they were subjected to earlier that day, the landscape before them was almost comically quaint. The sky was as blue as blue could be, while the nearby star was shining at just the right intensity, and small birds flitted gaily through the air, tweeting their cheerful song.

The village, by the looks of it, had a similarly well-adjusted atmosphere. Stone-carved cottages with thatched straw roofs lined either side of a loose, gravelly pathway, the kind that provided a satisfying crackle when you walked across it. The village was populated by tunic-clad humanoid rabbits with chalk-white fur coats - some with bushels of crops by their sides, some with bales of hay over their shoulders, some with children at their heels, and all with expressions of contentment. Bergamo could practically hear the mandolin music playing in the background.

"You expect us to find a warrior _here_?!" Lavenda demanded, prompting a dirty look from Bergamo.

"Well, you haven't left us much of a choice, now, have you?" Mojito asked. "Lucky for you, Parika is a dwarf planet, so travel time will be minimal. Ask around, look for densely populated areas, and don't take no for an answer. Good luck."

But just as he was about to jab his staff into the ground, Sidra caught him by the hand.

"Now, hold on, Mojito. Don't you think we should stay here and provide the three with some help? The fate of our universe _is_ at stake."

Mojito shook his head. "This is their responsibility, not ours. Besides, we have pressing matters to attend elsewhere."

The orb on his staff flashed to life before Sidra's eyes. He peered into it and saw the sneering yellow face of Quitela, Universe 4's God of Destruction, staring back at him.

"Quitela has called to arrange a meeting with you," said Mojito. "He says he has a proposition for you. An alliance, presumably."

Sidra's face darkened. He never felt comfortable collaborating with that smarmy, devious character. Even though they oversaw twin universes, their philosophies pertaining to their work couldn't have been more different. Destruction was something Sidra did out of obligation, while Quitela drew an almost sadistic level of pleasure from it.

Even so, Sidra reasoned that it couldn't hurt to have a fallback option in case his warriors fail their mission, which at this point was looking distressingly likely.

"Very well," he said. "Bergamo! Lavenda! Basil!"

The three wolves' eyes snapped towards Sidra. Basil shivered upon seeing the god's stern, stone-carved glower.

"You have four hours to assemble a team, starting now. Do not fail me!"

With that, Mojito rammed his staff into the ground, and both deities disappeared in a blinding flash of light. After the light dissipated, Basil and Lavenda could do little but stare dumbly at the empty space where their gods used to be. Bergamo, taking it upon himself to snap his two younger brothers out of their gaze, grabbed them by the hide and pulled them in close.

"Basil, Lavenda, listen to me!" he barked. "We're the absolute finest class of warriors that Universe 9 has to offer. If there's anyone who can accomplish this task, it's us."

He bared his fangs as he drew the two in closer, his furious eyes boring holes into them. "But we have four hours to do this," he whisper-growled, scorching them with blasts of hot air from his snout. "Two-hundred and forty minutes. We can't afford to waste a single second. I don't want to see any dawdling from either of you. Do you hear me?!"

"Yes, Bergamo!" Basil and Lavenda declared in unision, trying to match the eldest's intensity.

"Then follow my lead!"

Bergamo leaped from the precipice and landed knee-first in the ground below, causing minor tremors and leaving a dusty crater at the point of impact. Basil dove off the cliff, somersaulted in midair and stuck a perfect landing on his feet. Lavenda threw himself over the edge and belly flopped onto the ground, making an unceremonious _thud_ as he landed. Lavenda let out a faint grunt of pain before rolling into a standing position.

With no time to waste, the Trio de Dangers took off in a dead sprint towards the village, ready to take the first step on their tumultuous four-hour adventure.


	2. Can You Keep Up? Meet the Wily Sorrel!

As they walked into the village, the Trio de Dangers elicited more than a few stares and whispers from the surrounding townspeople. The three of them looked around to see farmers putting down their hay bales, children hiding behind their parents, and maidens clutching their purses against their chests. It was understandable; the village looked to be a rather insular community, and the three wolves couldn't have looked more out-of-place if they tried. Bergamo in particular sported a dark navy fur coat that stood in stark contrast to the milky hides of the villagers, and he looked to have as much muscle mass as three or four of the townsfolk put together.

"Please don't be alarmed," Bergamo spoke, turning to address the bewildered bunnies. "We come in peace. My brothers and I have come to this planet in search of its strongest warriors."

"We need a team of ten to compete in a tournament," added Basil. "Is there anyone here who'd like to join?"

At first, the three of them were met with nary a response, save a couple of worried whispers scattered throughout the crowd - assumedly from villagers fretting over who they could offer up and what would happen to them if the three gruff strangers weren't satisfied. Lavenda growled and leered at the crowd, ready to repeat the request in far less diplomatic terms if nobody spoke up.

Eventually, though, one villager found the courage to come forward- an old, withered, overall-clad farmer, with wrinkles so deep not even his fur coat could hide them.

"Ah, so you're lookin' for a fighter, are you?" the old man asked in a creaky, sawdusty voice. "Well, we've got quite a scrappy one here in this village."

"Then where is he?!" demanded Lavenda.

The old man's face hardened. "Now, don't you take that tone with me, hunchback. And if you must know, _she's_ out in the field, tendin' the sheep."

Lavenda unfurrowed his brow, as his beady yellow eyes widened with intrigue. "She?"

"Yes, indeedy," said the old man. "The shepherd's daughter, Sorrel. She's a hardy one. Two-time Annual Parika Martial Arts Tournament finalist. I reckon she'd do quite nicely on that team o' yours."

The old man looked away from the trio and pointed towards the horizon. Just beyond the village was a vast, green, dandelion-covered meadow, peppered with scattered flocks of grazing sheep.

"That's where you'll find 'er," he said. "But I should warn you fellas, she can be a lil' exhausting."

Basil scoffed at the warning. "I doubt she'll be anything more than we can handle," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "There's three of us and one of her, and each of us are more than capable."

Basil spoke the truth; each of the three brothers had extensive combat experience, as well as a unique ability to call their own. Basil could harness ki with his feet, Lavenda could inject his foes with a crippling poison, and Bergamo could convert the damage he sustained into energy and use it to grow his body. They weren't sure how those abilities would help them on this particular journey, but even without them, they weren't to be trifled with.

"Well, all right. But don't say I didn't warn y'all."

Bergamo nodded, gave the old man a "thank you", and started towards the meadow with his two brothers walking beside him. As they walked, he turned to his right to give Lavenda a stern look.

"You must learn to be more patient, Lavenda," said he. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," grumbled Lavenda. "I'm just tense, is all. Our time is short."

"Which is exactly why we can't afford to scare those who might help us," said Bergamo. "We must-"

"Ah! There she is!" interrupted Basil.

In the middle of the field, Basil spied a lithe, young-looking rabbit, dressed in a noticeably less modest fashion than the villagers they saw. Her top half was covered up by a torn, sand-colored tunic held up by only a single shoulder strap, that left her midriff and her opposite shoulder completely exposed. Below, she wore a pair of khaki shorts that only reached halfway past her thighs.

But Basil decided he'd let that detail pass without comment; after all, he was hardly one to talk, given the fact that he wore nothing but a short cape and gloves. And as far as he was concerned, as long as she could fight and support the team, she could wear whatever she pleased.

"You, there!" called Basil.

The rabbit looked up from her sheep, and upon catching sight of our three heroes, she let out a horrified gasp.

"Wolves!" she cried.

She leaped in front of the sheep and planted herself in a fighting stance, knees bent and fists raised. Once she touched down, she flipped up the visor on her thick, puffy hat, revealing her blood-red eyes.

"I won't let you harm my flock!" she declared.

Bergamo sighed and stepped forward, flipping his heavy crimson scarf behind him. "We're not here for your flock, ma'am. We're here for you. You are Sorrel, are you not?"

The rabbit unclenched her fists and let them drop to her sides, as the tension in her expression was released. "Yes, I'm she. Why do you ask?"

"We're looking for seven other fighters to join our team for a multiversal tournament," Bergamo said. "We've heard that you're quite the skilled combatant."

Sorrel donned a prideful grin. "Sure am!"

Basil stepped in front of Bergamo. "Then come join us!" he said, opting to cut right to the chase.

Sorrel, maintaining that cheeky smile, pulled her hat back down over her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "No!"

The three wolves' eyebrows leaped up in unison. "C-come again?" asked Basil.

"No!" repeated Sorrel.

"Why _not_?!" snarled Lavenda, prompting Bergamo to grasp him by the hunch and rein him in.

"Because!"

"Because _why_?!"

Sorrel cocked her hips from side to side. "Because I don't wanna!"

Bergamo groaned, pinching the bridge of his snout. He wished he could afford to just leave her and try to find someone else, but there was no telling how long that would take. Besides, Mojito had specifically instructed them not to take no for an answer.

"Sorrel, I implore you to reconsider," Bergamo said, struggling to hide his irritation. "We have a lot of spaces to fill on our team, and very little time to fill them."

"You'll have to catch me first!" taunted Sorrel. With that, she swiveled around 180 degrees, wiggled her poofy tail at them, and started sprinting away.

"Well, I guess we're doing this now," Bergamo grumbled under his breath.

Basil took a step forward, puffing out his chest. "Leave her to me, Bergamo! I'll have her caught in no time."

With a glint in his eye, Basil bounded after the bunny, pumping his thick, powerful legs. Renowned on his home planet as "The Kicker", Basil fought almost exclusively with his legs, and his years of fighting in such a style endowed him with a frighteningly strong lower body. As such, it wasn't long before he started gaining on Sorrel.

To his surprise, the fact that he was closing in did nothing to shake Sorrel's confidence. "You're almost there!" she teased. "Just a liiiiiiiittle more!"

Basil, excited by Sorrel's goading, licked his lips in anticipation of his success as he continued his pursuit. But just as he was approaching grabbing distance...

" _Rīchi_!"

As soon as that word left her lips, Basil saw her body become enveloped by a golden, pulsating aura, accompanied by a low humming sound. The aura expanded outward until it enveloped his body as well, causing his entire field of vision to be tinted yellow.

It was then that Basil noticed a dull pain coursing through his leg muscles, that sharpened and intensified with every successive step. He also started to feel a harsh pounding within his chest as his heartbeat accelerated, and his breathing became heavier and more labored.

 _What's happening?! I can't be getting tired already!_

But he was. Before long, it felt as though every cell in his body was crying out for him to stop, and he could no longer resist the urge to do so. He let his legs carry him for a few more steps before halting in his tracks, bending over and throwing his paws over his knees, huffing and puffing.

"Nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah!" was the last thing he heard from Sorrel before she took off into the distance. None of this made any sense to Basil; one minute he wasn't even winded, and the next his heart was pounding and his fur coat was damp with perspiration.

He cringed as he heard the sound of loudening footsteps behind him - no doubt from his two elder brothers coming over to scold him.

"What happened?!" cried Lavenda. "You almost had her!"

"I-I don't know," panted Basil. "All of a sudden I saw this glowing yellow light, and I just felt... _so_ tired."

"After just a minute of sprinting?" Bergamo asked. "You haven't been slacking on your training, have you, Basil?"

"I-I haven't, I swear!"

"Then this doesn't make any sense!" said Bergamo. "Why would you...

"...wait a minute..."

It was then that Bergamo remembered the cryptic warning that the old man left them with right before they left.

 _"But I should warn you fellas, she can be a lil' exhausting."_

 _Exhausting._

 _Perhaps he wasn't speaking figuratively,_ thought Bergamo.

"That glowing yellow light," the eldest mused, rubbing his chin. "Could it be some sort of energy- draining ki technique?"

"T-that must be it!" gasped Basil, still trying to catch his breath.

Bergamo furrowed his brow. "Well, I certainly can't think of any other explanation," he said. "But even so, what can we do about it? We can't catch her if she can exhaust us every time we-"

"Oh, come on!" Sorrel called from afar. "Aren't you guys gonna chase me? It's no fun if you don't try!"

Bergamo growled in frustration, knowing full well that a direct response to her taunting would get them nowhere. They'd have to think of a different way to catch her.

"A ki blast, maybe?" asked Basil. "That way we could slow her down without having to approach her."

Bergamo sighed and shook his head. "The warriors need to be in fighting shape for the tournament," he said. "We can't risk hurting them."

"Then what-"

Basil paused once he caught a glimpse of the middle brother's expression. A wicked, toothy grin had begun to spread across Lavenda's face, complete with droplets of saliva descending from his jowls.

"I think _I_ have an idea," he sneered. He raised his paws, both of which were now encased in violet light, signifying the preparation of his infamous poisoning technique.

"Lavenda, what did I just tell you?!" snapped Bergamo.

"Oh, don't worry, dear brother," said Lavenda, his voice dripping with slime. "I'm not planning on poisoning _her_."

He took a mighty leap across the field and planted himself right beside the sheep that Sorrel had been tending when they arrived.

"Come here, little sheepy," Lavenda growled menacingly, creeping up to the now-whimpering sheep.

Lavenda's behavior provoked an immediate response from Sorrel. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" she demanded, all hints of playfulness leaving her voice.

"I'm feeling a little peckish!" Lavenda called back. "I'm sure you won't mind if I slay one or two of your sheep."

Sorrel gasped. "Y-you wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I wouldn't, would I?" asked Lavenda, putting the trembling sheep in a headlock and holding his glowing paw up to its face. "Who knows? Maybe I'm bluffing. Or maybe I'm planning on treating myself and my two brothers to a juicy, spicy shawarma dinner!"

" _Shawarma_?!" screeched Sorrel. "Oooh, that does it!"

Bearing a furious scowl, Sorrel bounded towards Lavenda as fast as she could, ready to give him a thrashing. The sight of their former pursuee rapidly approaching caused a lightbulb to go off in Bergamo's head.

 _Of course!_ , he thought. _Lavenda, you clever devil!_

Sorrel, it turned out, was too single-mindedly intent on exacting justice on Lavenda to notice anything around her. Otherwise, she would have seen Bergamo flanking her from the right, ready to pounce. Alas, by the time she _did_ catch sight of the navy-furred, heavily muscled eldest brother, it was too late for her. Bergamo leaped across the meadow, tackled her to the ground and pinned her down by her shoulders.

"Gotcha!"

Sorrel squirmed and flailed about for a bit before finally succumbing to Bergamo's grip, signifying her forfeit with a defeated sigh.

"So you'll join us?" asked Bergamo. "I believe you said you would if we caught you."

Sorrel let out another sigh. "Oh, all right. Just get off me, you big lug."

A smile formed on Bergamo's face as he stood up and helped Sorrel back up onto her feet. Not only was he one step closer to completing his task, but he imagined that Sorrel's unique power would prove to be quite useful in the tournament.

"My name is Bergamo," he said, noticing his two younger brothers approaching out of the corner of his eye. "And these two are my brothers, Basil and Lavenda."

Sorrel crossed her arms and pouted at Lavenda. "Which one's the meanie?"

"That would be Lavenda," said Bergamo.

"Well, I don't like him. He's a _jerk_."

Sorrel punctuated her remark by sticking out her tongue at Lavenda, who just let the gesture pass without comment. Sorrel, still determined to get a reaction out of him, sidled up to Basil with a sultry smile on her face.

"Now, _you_ , I like," she said, fiddling with the tuft of fur below his neck. "You're a cutie."

Basil chuckled and scratched the back of his head, sporting a blush that somehow shone through his thick beard of fur. "Why, thank you. You're quite nice looking yourself."

"Oh, you flatter me, dear. Would you like to come back to my house to play with me?"

Sorrel wrapped her arms around Basil's neck and pulled herself in until her lips were right next to his ear. "I'll curl your fur and tie a bell 'round your neck," she whispered. "Or there's a rocking horse you can play with."

Bergamo, noticing that Basil was getting increasingly flustered, decided to put a stop to it right then.

"AHEM," he grunted, grabbing Sorrel by the tunic and pulling her off. "In case you've forgotten, we have a mission to finish. We're one step closer, but we're not done by any means."

Basil hastily regained his composure, standing up straight to address the eldest. "You're absolutely right, Bergamo. I apologize."

"Quite all right," said Bergamo. "Just remember to think with the head on your shoulders, and not the one below your waist."

He then turned to Sorrel. "By the way, Sorrel, I thought I should ask; do _you_ know of anyone else who could join our team?"

"Actually, yes!" said Sorrel. She leaned in towards Bergamo and motioned for Basil and Lavenda to come closer - which they did.

"Legend speaks of an old hermit named Oregano," she said, taking on a gravitas-infused tone of voice. " _Very_ powerful, and _very_ wise."

Bergamo rubbed his chin, unsure of the prospect of pursuing a warrior only rumored to exist. "Mmm-hmm. And where do you suppose we could find this Oregano?"

"Oh, he lives over there."

Sorrel pointed to a mountain range about a mile away from the meadow. "There's a crevasse at the base of the mountain. You can find him inside."

Bergamo blinked. "So... so he's not just a legend?"

"Nah, I just wanted to make him sound cooler," said Sorrel. "Anyway, let me take you to him!"

Bergamo rolled his eyes, but figured that the old hermit was worth giving a chance. "Come, brothers. Let us see what this 'Oregano' is capable of."

"Yay!" cheered Sorrel, taking off towards the mountain and beckoning the three to follow her. "You won't be disappointed, I promise!"

And so, with their first successful recruitment under their belts, the Trio de Dangers jogged alongside Sorrel. Bergamo hoped that this "Oregano" character would be a little less obstinate, but that remained to be seen.


	3. Puzzle Time! Solve Oregano's Riddles!

" _We're going on a warrior hunt,_

 _We're going on a warrior hunt,_

 _We're going on a warrior hunt,_

 _Tra-la-la-la-la!"_

The Trio de Dangers had opted to walk to the cave instead of running or flying, in the interest of conserving their energy in case they'd need to travel longer distances later on. A minute later, Lavenda was already regretting that decision; the walk over to Oregano's cave had been absolutely torturous for him, as Sorrel decided to spend it skipping about and gaily singing a song she thought up on a whim.

 _If we make it through this tournament without being erased, I'm going to come back here and flay every single one of her sheep,_ Lavenda thought. _Alive._

Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Lavenda restrained himself from taking any sort of action against their new recruit, lest he incite the wrath of Bergamo. Or worse, Sidra or Mojito. Or heaven forbid, Zen'o.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to put up with the singing for too long. After a few minutes passed, the four warriors arrived at the base of the mountain, and saw a deep, dark crevasse just like the one Sorrel described.

"Here we are!" chirped Sorrel. "Hold on, lemme see if Oregano's home."

She stepped forward, poked her head into the cave and cupped her hands over her mouth. "Oreeeeeegano!" she called.

" _Who's there?!_ " called a gravelly voice from inside the cave. " _Who dares disturb The Great Oregano?!_ "

Bergamo's expression soured. Apparently, they were dealing with an old hermit with an inflated sense of self-importance; his recruitment, like Sorrel's, would be a bit of an uphill battle.

 _"_ My name is Sorrel!" she called. "I come from the Kumi Village!"

" _A Kumian, you say?...State your business!_ "

"Well, today I was just tending my flock, when these three big wolves showed up and they said that they need warriors to join them for a tournament or something, so I said yes, but they said they needed more so I told them about you and brought them here!"

A tense silence followed, as the Trio de Dangers waited with bated breath to hear how the hermit would respond to that clumsy, stumbling run-on sentence.

" _I must say, I'm intrigued_ ," said Oregano. " _It's been quite a while since I've experienced the thrill of combat. Hyssop!_ "

" _Yes, Oregano?_ " responded a deeper, more resonant voice from inside the cave.

" _Please escort these strangers in._ "

Seconds later, the four warriors heard the sound of large, heavy feet pounding the ground of the cave. The footsteps grew louder and louder, until they finally saw a tall, hulking figure emerge from the veil of darkness. The creature was large and muscular enough to dwarf even Bergamo, and had a body that appeared to be carved out of some mauve-colored wood - a notion reinforced by his tree stump-shaped head. Torpedo-like spikes jutted out from his beefy, hunched back, and he wore naught but a pair of brown pants that seemed barely big enough to cover his thighs.

"I assume you are Hyssop?" asked Basil.

"You assume correctly," said Hyssop. "Come with me."

Hyssop turned his back and started lumbering back into the cave. As the heroes followed Hyssop inside, Bergamo couldn't help but wonder why Sorrel hadn't suggested recruiting _him_. He'd certainly consider extending an invitation to the behemoth.

But that would come later. For the time being, the four warriors just walked alongside Hyssop in silence, accompanied by the sound of his thundering footsteps, and the fainter sound of their feet scraping against the floor of the cave. The end of the tunnel, they could see, was illuminated by three torches, and as they got closer, they saw the features of a lone figure sitting cross-legged under the torches' light. The figure was a bony-faced humanoid with sunken-in eyes, burgundy skin, thick, wavy ashen-colored hair, and a lean, sinewy physique.

"Welcome to my cave," said the gentleman. "I am Oregano. I see you've already met my assistant, Hyssop."

"We have," said Bergamo. "I am Bergamo, and these are my brothers, Lavenda and Basil."

"And I'm Sorrel!" chirped Sorrel, giving him a wave.

"You said that already," said Hyssop.

"Oh, I know. I just like saying my name. Sorrel, Sorrel, Sorrel. It really rolls off the tongue!"

Bergamo groaned, but let the comment slide. "Anyway, as she told you, we're participating in a multiversal tournament of power, and we've come to your planet in search of warriors to join our team. Would you give us the pleasure of joining us?"

"Certainly!" said Oregano.

 _Well, that was easy-_

"...if you can answer one of my riddles!"

 _Never mind._

Bergamo let out a soft sigh, trying to repress his annoyance out of tact. "Riddles, you say?"

"Yes! Anyone who enters my cave must solve at least one of my mind-bending riddles. It's tradition!"

Bergamo, noticing that Lavenda was looking increasingly irate, grabbed him by the hunch and reined him in. "I say we agree," said Bergamo. "Surely we can solve at least one."

"I'll take the first one!" proclaimed Basil, stepping forward. "Give us your best riddles!"

Oregano's wrinkled lips curled up into a sly smile. "Riddle number one; what can you catch, but not throw?"

Basil snorted, almost offended that Oregano would give him something so easy. "A cold!"

"Wrong!" exclaimed Oregano, causing Basil's eyes to flip open in surprise. "It's a very, very sticky ball of honey and maple sap!"

Basil gave the old hermit a befuddled look. "A ball of honey?"

"Yes! You can catch it, but you cannot throw it, because it will stick to your hand!"

Sorrel bore a cheeky grin that shone through the darkness of the cave. "Oregano's riddles are tricky!" she said. "Don't assume you've heard them before."

"But... but wasn't my answer just as good?" asked Basil, tilting his head.

Oregano shook his head. "As the wise elder Coranda said, 'Every riddle has but one answer. If they had more, they would cease to be riddles.'"

Basil wasn't sure that was true, but he wasn't going to waste time by arguing semantics. "Very well. Give us another one."

"Sure!" said Oregano, turning towards Lavenda. "This one is for the hunchback; your mother gives birth to a child, but it is neither your brother nor your sister. Who is it?"

"That's easy," Lavenda said with a sneer. "It's me!"

"Wrong!" Oregano cried with near-maniacal glee. "They are your non-binary, non-gender conforming sibling!"

Lavenda snarled and glared daggers at the old man. "Are you serious?!" he demanded.

"Of course I am! Don't you know that gender is on a spectrum?"

This prompted a giggle from Sorrel. "Oh, Oregano, you're so funny."

Bergamo, fearing the worst, cast a cautious gaze in Lavenda's direction, and was surprised to find that the middle child's rage was starting to dissipate. "You're right, actually," he said, backing away. "Gender _is_ on a spectrum."

Bergamo decided to let the matter pass without comment, and stepped forward. "Very wise, Oregano," he said. "I'll take the next riddle, if you don't mind."

"But of course," said Oregano. "I am tall when I am young, but short when I am old. What am I?"

"A can-" Bergamo began, only to clamp his mouth shut before he finished the answer. His first instinct was to say "a candle", but it occurred to him that Oregano's "riddles" weren't quite that intuitive.

"A can of what?" Oregano asked with a chuckle. "A can of corn? A can of ramen? A can of-"

"Nothing," interrupted Bergamo. "Just- just disregard that last word. I misspoke."

Bergamo took a step backwards, in order to give himself some space to think. "Hmmm..." he hummed, pressing a knuckle up against his temple. He mulled over the "correct" answers to the previous two riddles, and tried to come up with a third one that would fit the pattern. The problem was that, as far as he could tell, there _wasn't_ any discernible pattern.

But while he was still lost in thought, Basil suddenly leaped forward and planted himself a foot away from the hermit, staring him down with his arms folded across his chest.

"It's a giraffe who ingested a very, very slow acting shrinking potion!" he declared. "Final answer."

Bergamo's first instinct was to storm over and give the youngest a walloping for butting in with such a ridiculous answer - without consulting him or Lavenda, no less. But one glance over Basil's shoulder revealed that a wrinkled grin was spreading across Oregano's face.

"Correct!" he cheered, giving Basil a round of applause. "Well, actually, it was an elephant. But close enough!"

Sorrel let out a whoop of glee, skipped over to Basil and gave him a congratulatory hug around the neck. "You figured him out!" she kvelled, petting Basil on the head. "Who's a good boy? Who's a clever little wolf?"

Bergamo decided to let the two of them have their moment, and stepped past them to address his prospective new teammates. "I trust this means you'll be joining our team?"

"I shall," said Oregano, pushing himself up onto his feet. Bergamo extended a paw towards him, offering to help him up, but Oregano refused. "I appreciate the help, but I assure you, I am no feeble old man."

"I would hope not," said Bergamo, as he turned his head in Hyssop's direction. "And what about you, Hyssop? Will you be joining us as well?"

Hyssop stared down at Bergamo for a moment, letting the gears turn in his proportionally small head before producing a terse, blunt answer.

"I see no reason not to."

Bergamo couldn't help but smile, knowing that he had not only recruited a powerhouse, but also brought himself an additional step closer to filling out the roster. Meanwhile, his brothers had decided to show their satisfaction in a decidedly less discreet manner.

"Two for one!" hollered Basil, leaping in the air and clicking his heels together. Upon landing, he and Lavenda locked arms and performed a celebratory do-si-do, all while chanting, "Two for one, two for one!"

Bergamo just stood back and chortled, shaking his head at their ridiculous display. "I must thank you, Sorrel," he said, as he turned towards the young rabbit (who looked just as amused as he did). "Thanks to you, we're far ahead of schedule."

"Aw, it wasn't nothin'," said Sorrel, waving him off.

After letting his brothers rejoice for a moment or two, Bergamo started walking back down the cave, motioning for the rest to follow him. "Come, my brothers. We mustn't waste a single second more."

As he walked back the way he came with his ever-growing crew behind him, Bergamo idly wondered whether he should test Oregano and Hyssop's combat capabilities before letting them on the team. Ultimately, he decided against it, as he didn't exactly have time to spar, nor was he in any position to be selective when it came to choosing team members.

"By the way," he asked, looking back over his shoulder towards Oregano and Hyssop, "do either of you know anyone else who might be willing to join us?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," said Oregano, donning a mischievous smirk. "But if you want to know, you're going to have to answer another ri-"

"His name is Comfrey and he lives in the Parsala Swamp," interrupted Hyssop.

Oregano reached up and gave Hyssop a smack over the head, which didn't seem to affect him at all. "What was that for? I was going to give him a real stumper!"

Hyssop just shrugged his meaty shoulders, not even bothering to turn his head. Oregano gave off a defeated sigh before turning back to Bergamo. "Yes, his name is Comfrey. He dwells in the Parsala Swamp, but his influence extends far, far beyond that. I'll explain on the way over."

"Don't bother," said Bergamo, giving him a dismissive gesture. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other after the tournament."

 _If we win, that is_ , he thought, shuddering at the reminder that his very existence was banking on that "if".

"Now, where can we find this Parsala Swamp?" he asked, in an attempt to get his mind off the subject.

"About thirty kilometers beyond the mountain, along the Jinje River," said Hyssop. "Oregano can lead you there."

Bergamo raised an eyebrow at the giant. "Why can't you?"

"I can't fly."

Oregano draped a hand across Hyssop's shoulder. "Powerful as he is, Hyssop is quite the clumsy one. _Bukujutsu_ is beyond him."

"Have you tried teaching him?" asked Basil. In response, Oregano threw his head back and cackled.

"Oh, you should have seen it! The planet quaked every time he tried to take off!...But no, we gave up after that. As the wise elder Coranda said, 'You cannot teach a cow to breathe underwater.'"

It was at this point that the group was nearing the end of the tunnel and emerging back into the outside world.

"But don't be concerned," said Oregano. "We've devised... _other_ ways for Hyssop to get around."


	4. Mr Comfrey! Let's Make a Deal!

Bergamo was tempted to ask Oregano to elaborate on that last comment, but he figured that he'd get his explanation soon enough - and he was right. After they exited the cave, Oregano and Hyssop lead the other four warriors to an empty stretch of land a decent distance away from the mountain. He then stood with Hyssop in the middle of the field and ordered everyone else to stand back. Once the others backed away, Hyssop planted his feet and extended his hands, palms out, towards an empty patch of grass in front of him.

The Trio de Dangers watched in wonder as a continuous stream of ice was expelled from Hyssop's hands, forming an ever-growing translucent tower. The ice tower rose higher and higher, engulfing and petrifying all the nearby flora, until it eclipsed the height of even Hyssop himself. Once the tower peaked at eleven feet tall, Hyssop stopped... before walking over to another patch of grass about twenty feet away and repeating the process.

After both towers were completed, Oregano jumped into the air, easily matching the height of the pillars. At the peak of his ascent, he shot dozens of tendrils of white, silky webbing from his fingertips, which wrapped themselves around the tops of the pillars and bound them together.

 _Interesting,_ thought Bergamo. _Ice manipulation and spider webs. I imagine these abilities must work quite well in tandem._

But Oregano and Hyssop weren't just performing a demonstration of their powers. After Oregano landed, Hyssop took a mighty leap towards the towers, catching himself on the webbing that Oregano planted. With the webbing wrapped around his body, he landed on the ground and trudged away from the towers, stretching the web tighter and tighter. Every subsequent step was slower and more labored than the last, as the web's resistance grew. Just before the web broke, Hyssop hopped off the ground and let the web snap back into its original position, slingshotting the giant high into the atmosphere.

"Creative, no?" Oregano asked the other warriors, who were rendered speechless by the bizarre method of transportation they had conceived. "And don't worry about losing him; we've done this several times before. I can guess his landing point based on the height of the towers and how far he stretched the webbing."

He then used his ki to hover off the ground, inviting the others to follow him. "And if I'm correct, he landed right in the Jinje River - or close to it, at least. Let's go find him!"

Bergamo, though still a bit baffled by what he saw, decided to follow the eccentric Oregano. _If it works, it works_ , he thought.

And so, Bergamo, Lavenda, Basil and Sorrel took off into the sky after Oregano, staying just low enough to scan the ground for any sign of Hyssop. Mid-flight, Oregano veered close to Bergamo and struck up a conversation with him.

"Let me tell you a little about Comfrey," said Oregano, even though Bergamo could've sworn he told the old man not to bother with that. Regardless, he decided just to humor the old man, if only because it'd pass the time before they found Hyssop and landed.

"Comfrey's made a name for himself by doing favors. If you come to his swamp and you tell him that you need something done, he'll do it.

"But the catch," he continued, raising his bony finger, "is that he never does a favor for free. You'll have to tell him, up front, what you'll give him in return. And _don't_ try to cheat him, or great misfortune will come to you."

Bergamo raised his eyebrows at Oregano. "Is he powerful?"

"Very," said Oregano. "In his position, he _has_ to be. All his clients would be robbing him blind if he wasn't. As the wise elder Coranda said, 'All of us would be thieves if we thought we could get away with it.'"

Bergamo looked away from the old man, rubbing his chin in thought. _I suppose I should take Oregano at his word. After all, his logic does make quite a bit of sense. If he wasn't strong, how could he-_

"There! I see him!"

Bergamo's train of thought was interrupted by Basil, who had just spied Hyssop's bulky upper body poking out from under the surface of the river. Even though he and the team were a few hundred feet in the air, Hyssop was simply too large to miss, especially since his skin tone stood in stark contrast to the muted tint of the river.

"Gosh, that must be one shallow river," observed Basil.

"No, Hyssop's just treading water," said Oregano. "His legs are far stronger than they look, you know."

The five warriors all landed at the side of the river, grabbed Hyssop by the upper torso, and hoisted him up out of the water. Bergamo thought to give Hyssop a moment to dry off, until he remembered that they'd have to go treading through the swamp in just a moment anyway. On a related note, once Bergamo started to survey his surroundings, he noticed that the swampland beyond the river extended for several miles - which didn't exactly make him feel confident about finding Comfrey.

"How exactly are we supposed to find this character?" he asked Oregano.

"We won't have to!" said Oregano, giving Bergamo a toothy grin. "Comfrey has eyes and ears all over the Parsala Swamp. You don't find him; _he_ finds _you_."

Bergamo was a bit hesitant to take the word of a hermit who seldom left his cave, but it wasn't as though he had any other choice. "Come, Basil, Lavenda, Sorrel," he said, walking away from the river and wading through the swampland.

As the wolves trekked into the swamp, the water level rose higher and higher, until it was lapping at their knees. Bergamo and Lavenda were grateful that they happened to be wearing sturdy boots and heavy legwear, but Basil and Sorrel weren't so lucky. Both of their legs were bare, and thus they had to endure the sickening feeling of the swamp water clinging to their fur.

"How much longer do we have to walk?" griped Basil.

"Can't we just fly instead?" whined Sorrel.

Bergamo shook his head, eliciting a groan from both of them. "We don't want to leave Hyssop behind," he said. "But we won't have to walk for too much longer. Assuming that what Oregano told me is correct, that is."

"For his sake, I hope it is," said Lavenda, giving Oregano a pointed look.

Fortunately, it was. The six of them only spent a couple more minutes wading through the swamp before they were spotted.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" called a voice from above.

The six warriors' eyes all darted around the foliage, in a nervous attempt to find the source of the noise. Fortunately, said source was perfectly willing to present himself to them. A myrtle-colored figure dismounted from the top of a tree and swooped downward, weaving through the branches as he descended. As he neared the ground, the figure slowed his descent and planted himself feet-first right in front of the warriors. He was a gargoyle-like creature, with enormous bat wings and a pair of glowing yellow eyes that sat under a third, blood-red eye in the center of his forehead. He, like Oregano and Hyssop, left his upper body naked, wearing only a tan skirt.

"I asked you fellas a question," snapped the creature. "What do you think you're doin', walkin' right into Comfrey's turf?"

Bergamo's face lit up at the sound of Comfrey's name. "So this _is_ where Comfrey dwells."

"Yeah? What's it to ya?"

"Well, we're competing in a tournament, and we're looking for fighters to join our team," said Basil. "So if you could just-"

"Forget about it," interrupted the creature. "Comfrey's busy. He ain't seein' nobody today. Beat it."

Lavenda snarled and stepped out from behind his brothers, baring his claws. "If you don't take us to Comfrey, the only thing we'll be beating is _you_."

The creature's bright eyes widened in fear, and he took a few tentative steps away from Lavenda, throwing up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, easy, buddy. I don't want any trouble."

Bergamo was about to reprimand his younger brother for his aggression, but Oregano beat him to it. He stepped forward and clonked Lavenda on the head.

"Tsk, tsk, Lavenda. As the wise elder Coranda said, 'Anger is a weapon only to one's opponent.'"

Lavenda just muttered some profanities and backed away. This "wise elder Coranda" was sounding more and more like someone he wanted to clobber.

"Listen, I don't know what this is all about, but Comfrey's not available right now," said the creature. "I gotta ask you to come back later."

"Aww, but this is really, _really_ important," cooed Sorrel. She cocked her hips from side to side as she sidled up to the creature. As she wasn't used to treading through water, she had to raise her knee up high with every step, putting her plump legs on display. "Can't we see him for just a teensy weensy bit? Pretty pleeeease?"

The gargoyle giggled and squirmed around in Sorrel's clutches, believing in that moment that doing what she said would get him to first base. "Well, uh, I mean- I guess I could go get him- like, if he's not too-"

Then, all of a sudden, their ears picked up the sound of bubbles popping and swamp water being shifted around. Sorrel let go of the gargoyle and turned to where the noise was coming from. About twenty feet away, she and the others spied a cluster of bubbles on the surface of the water that drew closer and closer, making splashing sounds as it approached. Once the cluster was next to the creature, the bubbles popped, and a new figure burst forth from the water where the bubbles once were, causing a splash that sent droplets flying everywhere. The figure was a green, amphibian-esque humanoid, with sharp triangular fins on either side of his head, thick maroon lips, and prominent abs and pectoral muscles. Around his waist was a blue skirt (half of which was submerged in the swamp), fastened by a brown belt with a dulled, stained ruby on the buckle.

"What's all the hubbub?" asked the amphibian, his facial fins twitching as he spoke. "Did I hear that all you palookas are here to see me?"

"Is that Comfrey?" Basil asked, turning towards Oregano.

"You got it, baby," said Comfrey, puffing out his chest and laying his hands on his hips.

The gargoyle approached Comfrey with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands wringing. "Oh, they won't be here for long, boss," he said. "I was just tellin' them that you're too busy to-"

Comfrey cut the gargoyle off with a hard smack upside the head.

"What was that for?!" cried the gargoyle.

"For bein' an idiot!" snapped Comfrey. "If one palooka comes trudgin' into my swamp, you can turn him away. If _two_ palookas come trudgin' into my swamp, you can turn 'em away. But _six_?"

Comfrey rubbed his chin as he looked each of the six warriors up and down. "That's somethin' you don't see every day."

"No, I'd imagine not," said Bergamo. "My name is Bergamo. These are my brothers, Lavenda and Basil, and my friends, Sorrel, Oregano and Hyssop." He gestured to each warrior as he named them.

"Charmed," said Comfrey. "And this schmoe over here is Roselle," he added, pointing to the gargoyle. "He's my messenger, and my lookout boy. He's basically my eyes and ears."

"And I do a good job of it, too!" said Roselle. "Don't I, boss?"

Comfrey just let that interjection pass without comment. "Now, there must be a reason you six are all achin' to see me. So, out with it."

"I would be more than happy to," said Bergamo. "We're going to compete in a multiversal tournament, and we're looking for ten warriors to represent our universe. We've heard you're quite the formidable one. Would you do us the honor of joining us?"

Comfrey crossed his arms, as both the left corner of his mouth and his left eyebrow arced upwards. "Yeah, sure, I'll join your little troupe. Only question is, what's in it for me?"

Bergamo hissed through his clenched teeth, knowing full well that he should have seen that coming. Bargaining, after all, was Comfrey's specialty.

"I ain't livin' in this world for free, you know," said Comfrey. "It's tit for tat. You can't just ask me to fight for you and not give me nothin' in return."

After a moment of hesitation, Bergamo pulled his two brothers and three recruits aside, and gathered them into a huddle.

"Maybe we could give him money?" suggested Basil.

"We're broke," said Lavenda. "And I don't think we even use the same currency as them!"

Basil just bowed his head, blushing a bit. "Oh."

"Well, what does Comfrey usually use as payment?" Bergamo asked Oregano.

"Heck if I know," Oregano said with a shrug. "I've never done business with him."

Bergamo's jaw dropped open. "You... then how do you know so much about him?!"

"Word travels quickly on this planet," said Hyssop.

Bergamo kept his glare focused on Oregano, letting Hyssop's comment pass without comment. "I _really_ wish you'd told me about this earlier," he said. "Before we left, we should have taken some time to come up with a-"

"Ooh! Ooh! I know!" cried Sorrel. Before the rest of them could even ask what she was thinking of, she left the huddle and skipped up to Comfrey's side.

"Sorrel, wait!" cried Bergamo. "At least consult us before you-"

"I think I've got something you'd like," she said, ignoring Bergamo. "Have you ever had a Kumi biscuit before?"

Comfrey shook his head. "Nah. Can't say that I have."

Beaming, Sorrel rooted through her pocket and pulled out a small, disc-shaped pastry, with orange icing. "They're a Kumian specialty," she said. "I usually keep one or two of 'em on me in case I get hungry. Try one!"

Comfrey shrugged, took the biscuit out of Sorrel's hand and popped it in his mouth. As he chewed, his eyelids crept further and further open, and a grin expanded across his face.

" _Mercy_ , this is good. Just the right balance of tangy and sweet. And it melts right in your mouth. What'd you put in this?"

"Ah, ah, ah," chided Sorrel, wagging her paw at him. "That's a Kumian secret. _Buuuut,_ if you come join our team, I'll have my grandpa whip up a big ol' basket of them, just for you. How's that sound?"

Comfrey smirked. "You've got yourself a deal," he said, giving Sorrel a firm handshake.

Bergamo hadn't expected Comfrey to be so easily bribed with food, but he decided to just roll with it. _If it works, it works_ , he thought, which he suspected would go on to be his personal mantra throughout their adventure.

"I say, Comfrey, do you know of any _other_ warriors around these parts?" asked Basil.

"I do!" exclaimed Roselle. "Her name's Hop. From Mint City. Semifinalist in the Parika Martial Arts Tournament. And oh, boy, she's a nasty one. Nastier than you'd ever believe. Nobody ever wants to cross paths with her."

Lavenda's eyes lit up. "Ah, it sounds like she'll do nicely," he said, donning a sly grin and licking his chops. "Just take us to the city, then, and we'll go find her."

Roselle backed away from Lavenda, wringing his hands. "Ooh, I don't know about that. It's not gonna be easy to reach her. Not easy at all."

Lavenda lost his smile. "And why is _that_?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes at the gargoyle.

Roselle gulped. "'Cause she's in prison."


	5. A Violent Criminal? Hop the Psychopath!

A pregnant silence ensued after Roselle dropped that bomb on the Trio de Dangers. It was safe to assume that recruiting Hop would be easier said than done; even if she was fully willing to go with them, it seemed unlikely that the prison staff would let her leave, even if it _was_ just for a fighting tournament. Regardless, their options were scarce and their time was short, so they decided to inquire more about this new warrior.

"What did she go to prison for, anyway?" asked Basil.

"And if she's so fearsome, why was she only a _semi_ finalist?" asked Lavenda.

Roselle laughed darkly. "You wanna know what's funny?" he asked. "Both those questions have the exact same answer. She got disqualified in the semifinals for bitin' the other guy's face off."

This elicited a cringe of revulsion from the warriors - sans Hyssop, who stayed just as stoic as ever.

"Anyway, I know the way to Mint City, so I'll take ya there," Roselle continued. "You fellas can fly, right?"

Hyssop raised his enormous, meaty hand. "They can. I cannot."

"But not to worry," said Oregano, raising a bony finger. "We've devised a way to-"

"Save it," interrupted Comfrey. "My accomplice'll be more than happy to carry him."

Roselle's eyes bugged out of his skull. "You kiddin' me?!" he cried. "You expect me to carry this big lug all by myself?! I'll throw my back out!"

"I'm gonna throw _you_ in a second if you don't shut your trap," snapped Comfrey. "You go to Mint City all the time. A lil' extra load ain't gonna kill ya. Dig?"

Roselle sighed, his beady eyes drifting downwards. "Yes, boss."

"Then let's get goin'."

And so, the Trio de Dangers, Sorrel, Oregano and Comfrey took off into the skies towards their next destination. Roselle brought up the rear with Hyssop in his talons, choking out directions to Mint City in between gasps and grunts of effort.

"Incidentally, do _you_ know anything about this 'Hop' character?" Bergamo asked Comfrey as they glided a mile above the ground.

"Not too much," said Comfrey. "Seen her fight a couple times in tournaments before. I never saw her try to pull anythin' funny, but I could always tell there was somethin' sketchy about her. You feelin' me?"

As they flew, Bergamo saw the land below them begin to change shape. Trees, shrubs and rivers started to give way to paved roads, farmhouses and street signs. The sounds of tweeting birds, rustling leaves and rushing rivers faded out, replaced by the sounds of car horns and running machinery. Before long, the clean, pristine air of the forest started to grow thicker and dirtier, and their path was obscured by the occasional cloud of smog. The six warriors passed over a quaint farmland, followed by a tranquil suburb, before finally arriving at a bustling urban center.

"H-here we are," Roselle choked out, his breathlessness a product of both the city air and the effort of toting Hyssop. "L-let's land."

And land they did. As the eight warriors reached the ground, the tiny figures populating the cityscape grew clearer and clearer. They were anthropomorphic beings with feline-esque features; each one sported triangular ears resting atop their heads, protruding fangs, and long tails that whisked back and forth as they walked.

As soon as all eight of them touched down (and Roselle caught his breath), they approached a passerby - a well-dressed cat person, clad in a suit and a fedora with holes poked out of both for his ears and tail.

"Excuse me, sir," said Bergamo, "but we're looking for the Mint City... correctional facility. Would you happen to know where that is?"

The cat, visibly bemused by the bizarre cast of characters approaching him, took a step back. "Well, mister, there are a few different places I could point you to. There's the rehab center, the -"

"The super prison!" Basil blurted out. "We want the one for all the _really_ nasty criminals."

The cat took another step back from the group, his mouth gaping open in bewilderment. "I... well, if that's really what you want, then you'll have to go downtown," he said. "You're gonna head down Cardamom Road, against the traffic, until you make it to Allspice Square, then make a left onto Fennel Avenue and keep going until you come to this big concrete complex. You can't miss it."

Bergamo nodded and took off in a stride down Cardamom Road, beckoning his team to follow him. As they followed the route the stranger had mapped out for them, they earned a few stares and gawks from passersby - which they just ignored, as they were in too much of a hurry to care about rudeness.

When they finally did reach the complex, there was one thought that came to all of their minds; the stranger wasn't kidding when he said, "You can't miss it." It took up the entire block, towered over most other buildings in the vicinity, and its concrete construction stood in stark contrast to the steel-built towers that constituted most of the city.

"It's rather telling that the prison stands as one of the city's oldest buildings," said Oregano. "As the wise elder Coranda said, 'Generations may change, but the allure of crime will always endure.'"

Bergamo just rolled his eyes, as did a few others, and they walked towards the entrance.

"Can we be sure that this is the facility that Hop's being kept at?" Lavenda asked Roselle.

"Oh, yeah, for sure, man. There's no way that they'd put her anywhere else."

Bergamo nodded, gripped the handle on the iron-plated front door and heaved it open, letting the others walk in.

"What a gentleman!" chirped Sorrel, who skipped to the front of the pack and entered first.

 _I was holding it for everyone, _thought Bergamo as he let the rest of the gang inside.

Once he got in, he found himself in a spacious, tile-floored waiting room, lit by flickering fluorescent lights across the ceiling. In the center was a broad wooden desk covered with miscellaneous papers, manned by an orange-coated lady receptionist with a headset who was so absorbed in her paperwork that she didn't bother to look up at the eight new arrivals. Bergamo suspected that it was a particularly slow day, as it was so quiet in the facility that he could hear the buzzing of the lights and the _click-clack_ of the claws on his feet tapping the floor.

Bergamo cleared his throat in an attempt to get the receptionist's attention - which he did. She looked up, and promptly raised an eyebrow at the cavalcade of creatures standing in front of her desk.

"Um, yes, may I help you?" she asked with a hint of tension in her voice. Bergamo couldn't tell if the tension was from impatience or nervousness.

"We'd like to visit one of your inmates," said Bergamo. "You _do_ allow them to have visitors, do you not?"

"Yes, the visiting center's down the hall," said the receptionist, pointing to the right. On the right side of the room was an open doorway that lead to a long corridor, with a sign that read "VISITING CENTER" just above it. A few feet away from the doorway was an unmarked pair of dead-bolted doors.

"May I ask the name of the inmate you came here to see?" asked the receptionist.

"Of course," said Bergamo. "We're here to see Hop."

At the sound of that name, that sliver of tension swelled into full-on panic; her pupils shrank, she turned white as a sheet, and she dropped her pen, which hit the floor with a clink.

"H...H...Hop?" she stammered. "Um... p-please state your relation to the inmate."

"Friend!" lied Basil. "We're all her friends and we want to see how she's doing."

Bergamo wanted to scold Basil for being so impulsive, but he predicted that they'd be able to escape with Hop by the time the prison staff called their bluff.

The receptionist scooted back in her chair and took a few deep breaths, trying to process the situation. "O-okay. We'll let her know that you're here. The telephones are down the-"

"You misunderstand," said Bergamo. "We wish to speak to her _in person_. Please bring her out."

The receptionist sprung up from her chair and smacked her paws down on the counter. "Have you gone mad?!" she demanded. "You expect us to escort that... that _maniac_ out of her cell?! Do you have any idea what-"

"'Ey, cool your jets, lady," interrupted Comfrey. "I assure you that the eight of us can handle her. We'll make sure she don't hurt nobody."

He then reached under his belt, pulled out a fistful of bills and discreetly slid them across the counter. "There. Take that and buy yourself somethin' nice. If the boss gives you heat for bringin' her out, just tell 'em that we threatened to kill you if you didn't. Badda bing, badda boom."

The receptionist snatched up the generous sum of money that Comfrey left her, and counted them with such voracity it was a wonder that she didn't tear them to shreds. Her eyes darted around the room for a second before she stuffed the bills into her pocket and switched on her headset.

"Please escort Hop into the reception hall," she said, in a professional tone that belied the flagrant amorality she demonstrated moments prior. With that, she switched off the headset and scurried down the hall, out of sight.

* * *

Before long, the iron doors swung open. A broad-shouldered, muscular cat in uniform came into the room wheeling an upright gurney. On the gurney lay a lithe female cat trussed up in a straightjacket, with a bite mask obscuring most of her face and three thick leather bands binding her to the table. Her face was framed by several thick, long locks of deep purple hair (or was it fur?), and her eyes were a piercing yellow. Bergamo raised an eyebrow at the outfit she was donning - a low-cut, midriff-baring top with black pants that he doubted was a standard prisoner's uniform. Unless it was a particularly liberal prison.

"Here she is," said the guard, propping the gurney up and undoing the restraints. "Be very, _very_ careful around her."

Once he undid the leather straps, the bite mask was the next to go. The guard unfastened it and pulled it off, revealing a carnal, lustful smile underneath.

"I must have lost track of time," she purred. "Is it dinner time already?"

She sidled up to Sorrel, licking her lips as her long, thick tail whipped back and forth. "I was expecting beef stroganoff, but this is a pleasant surprise. It's been _so_ long since I've had hasenpfeffer."

Sorrel gulped and took a jittery step away from the new arrival. "H-hasenpfeffer?"

Bergamo stepped in between the two ladies, giving Hop a stern look. "We're not here to feed you," he said. As he spoke, he could faintly hear Sorrel's whimpering as she cowered behind his sizable frame. "We're here to recruit you."

"For a fighting tournament!" Basil chimed in. "We've heard stories about your fighting prowess."

"Oh, I'm flattered, dear," said Hop, smiling at Basil. "But my last tournament was a bit of a bust, I'm sorry to say. The other guy threw a fit just because I bit his nose off. Who even uses those, anyway?"

She ran her claws through her violet bangs, straightening them out. "But I don't see any reason to decline your invitation. I'd be happy to get out of this stuffy old prison and fight someone. Preferably someone who isn't such a crybaby."

"Now wait just a minute!" interjected the guard. "We told you that you could speak to Hop. We didn't say anything about letting her go free!"

Bergamo groaned. _If it's not one thing, it's another,_ he thought.

He glanced over at Lavenda, half-expecting the middle child to start accosting the guard any second now. What he saw threw him for a loop; Lavenda was completely fixated on Hop, with his pupils dilated, his tongue hanging out and his paws clasped in front of him.

"Lavenda?" he called, to which he received no direct response.

"She... she's... beautiful..." muttered Lavenda.

Bergamo rolled his eyes and turned back towards the guard, but noticed Comfrey and Roselle cornering him, trying to strike up a deal. Occasionally, Oregano would chime in.

 _Good_ , he thought. _I can just leave that to them._

"So tell me a little bit more about this tournament," Hop said to Bergamo, ignoring Lavenda's fawning.

"Gladly," said Bergamo. "It's a multiversal tournament. Ten warriors from each universe are coming together for a battle royale."

"Ooh, fun!" exclaimed Hop. "I've heard lots of stories about the other universes, but I've never actually seen them. It'll be cool to...um..."

Hop's smile shrank. As she spoke, she took occasional quick glances over her shoulder towards the scene taking place between Comfrey and the guard. With each successive glance, her expression soured more and more.

"What I mean is... um... sorry, I'm just..."

Hop heaved out a groan. "I'm sorry, I have to take this. Excuse me for a moment."

Before Bergamo could even ask her what she meant by that, she swung around to face the guard, planting herself in a battle stance. The purple-polished claw on her right pointer finger extended out several inches, sparkling as it reached its full length. In one smooth motion, she dashed forward, weaved around Comfrey and Roselle, and swung her claw past the guard's neck. An awkward silence ensued as everyone in the room stared at her, wondering what she had just done.

They got their answer a moment later, when a slit across the guard's neck opened up and started spurting blood. The guard fell to the floor, desperately clamping his paws over the wound and screaming in agony. The other eight warriors could do little but gawk in disbelief.

"What?!" cried Hop. "Don't look at me like that! They were taking _forever_!"

Bergamo was going to argue, until he heard the sound of heavy boots clomping down the hall - and knew they couldn't stay a second longer. He motioned for the rest of the gang to follow him as he sprinted out of the reception center. Once all of them got outside, they took off into the skies, with both Roselle and Oregano bearing the burden of carrying Hyssop this time around. Once they were far enough away to ensure that they had lost their pursuers, Bergamo turned to Hop and started to speak.

"I... suppose I should thank you," he said begrudgingly. "That would have taken significantly longer if you hadn't stepped in. In the future, though, I'd like you to warn me before you do something like that."

"Aw, but that takes all the fun out of it," griped Hop. "Anyway, where are you taking us next? We going to see Sidra or what?"

"Not quite yet," said Bergamo. "We still don't have a full team of ten yet. Do you know of anyone else who'd be willing to join us?"

Hop smirked, rubbing her claw against the underside of her chin. "Welllll... there _is_ one guy I've heard a lot of stories about. Any of you ever heard of Chappil the Immovable?"


	6. Ultimate Test! The Immovable Chappil!

"Chappil the Immovable?" asked Bergamo, as the clouds floated past them. "I can't say that I have. Tell me more."

"Guy's part of the Iron Dragon clan," said Hop. "They live in the Alaspice Mountains. And brother, you've gotta be one tough son of a gun in order to live there."

Bergamo's eyes widened with wonder. "Tell me more."

"Well, see, they do all their farming at the base of the mountain. But their _settlements_ are on the peaks. So every harvest, they've gotta carry all their crops to the top. Now, if you're wondering why they don't just build their settlements at the base, it's because they've got this superstition that their resting place has to be as close to the moon as possible..."

Hop went on and on about the Iron Dragons - their history, the effect that all their adversity has had on their bodies, and finally, their proudest warrior, Chappil - all while leading the group through the clouds, presumably to the Dragons' home. Lavenda spent the entire trip panting and making goo-goo eyes at her, while Sorrel spent it cowering behind Hyssop; Hop ignored both of them.

"Now, here's the thing about Chappil," said Hop. "He's a- oh! Here we are."

Hop stopped in her tracks and pointed downwards. The team's attention was drawn towards a mountain range a mile or so below them, with faint outlines of cottages resting atop one of the peaks. She started to descend towards the peak, while motioning for the rest to follow her - which they did.

"I must say, the breadth of your knowledge is impressive," said Bergamo. "I didn't expect you to be quite so well-read."

"The prison's got a fully stocked library," explained Hop. "Spend a lot of time in there reading, because, y'know, what else am I gonna do?"

As the team floated downwards, the outlines started to become clearer; several tall, humanoid figures started to come into view around the cottages. As they drew closer still, they began to notice the villagers' draconic features, like ebony horns, elongated snouts, whip-like tails, and torsos covered with silvery scales. Just before they touched down, one of the inhabitants - a (relatively) short, hunchbacked dragon dressed in a dirty gray toga - gave them a wave hello.

"Good day, travelers!" he said in a raspy voice, beaming brightly. Taking a moment to look around, the team noticed that the other villagers who approached them were also sporting warm smiles. Bergamo was a bit surprised at the warm welcome, but he wasn't about to complain.

"And a good day to you, too," said Bergamo, giving a small bow. "My name is Bergamo. These are my brothers, Lavenda and Basil, and my friends, Sorrel, Oregano, Hyssop, Comfrey, Roselle and Hop."

"Hello, hello!" said the toga-clad dragon, shaking each of their hands as their names were called out. "Welcome to the Iron Dragon village. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bergamo crouched down a little to meet the dragon at his eye level. As he did, the rest of the group gathered around both of them, listening intently to their conversation.

"We're recruiting warriors for a multiversal fighting tournament," said Bergamo. "We've heard talk about a member of your clan named... Chappil, was it?" He momentarily glanced at Hop, who gave him a nod.

"Ah, Chappil the Immovable!" exclaimed the dragon. "The hardiest fellow on all of Parika. At least, we'd like to think so."

"Perfect," said Bergamo. "Take us to him."

The old dragon's smile shrank, and Bergamo's did soon afterwards. "I... I'm afraid that might be a bit difficult," said the old dragon.

"And why is that?" asked Bergamo, narrowing his eyes.

"He's asleep."

The elder's explanation earned him some incredulous looks from around the circle.

"Then we'll just wake him up!" cried Lavenda.

The elder sighed and shook his head. "Not an easy task, I'm afraid. Chappil isn't just the mightiest warrior in our village; he's also the heaviest sleeper."

Bergamo took a step back, massaging his temples in frustration. _There's always a catch. There's always, always, always a catch._

"You can try to wake him up if you wish," said the elder, pointing towards the far side of the village. Near the edge of the mountain stood a tall, lithe, platinum-colored dragon, with long black horns jutting out of his head, wearing nothing but a purple-sleeved tunic that left his midriff completely bare. The dragon had his head bowed, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes shut.

"He sleeps standing up?" asked Basil, raising an eyebrow.

"We all do," said the elder dragon. "Our ancestors began the practice long ago, believing that it made them stronger."

"Does it?" asked Basil.

"Heck if I know. But once you get into a habit, it's hard to kick it."

With that, the elder shuffled off to the side and extended a hand towards Chappil's sleeping form. "As I said, you're welcome to try. Between the nine of you, I'm sure at least one of you could-"

"CHAPPIL! WAKE UP, CHAPPIL! WAKEY, WAKEY, EGGS AND BAKEY!"

While the rest of the group was occupied, Oregano had apparently taken it upon itself to make the first move. The team looked over to see him clinging to Chappil's body like a spider monkey and bellowing into his ear. Soon afterwards, Sorrel decided to join in on the fun, hopping around Chappil's stationary form and clapping her hands. "Wake up, Chappil, rise and shine! Up and at 'em, sleepy dragon!"

Bergamo groaned, bemoaning the fact that there wasn't a wall nearby for him to beat his head against.

Oregano and Sorrel, predictably, were met with complete failure. A few of the other team members joined in, and they fared no better. Comfrey and Roselle tried to bribe Chappil, and were completely ignored. Hop tried to wake him up by grabbing his crotch, only to find that there was nothing to grab. All the while, Bergamo, Basil and Hyssop watched the rest of the gang in disappointed silence.

"Should we tell them to stop trying?" asked Hyssop.

"As much as I'd like to, I'm struggling to come up with a better idea," Bergamo said with a sigh.

"I'm sure something'll come to us," said Basil.

The three of them stood together in thought, watching the chaos play out before them as the gears in their head turned and turned. Basil started to go through all of the unique talents that the individual team members sported, wondering if any of them could be used to solve the problem.

 _Sorrel? No, you can't leech energy from someone who's already asleep. Oregano? No, what would those webs even do? Hyssop? No, I don't think freezing him would help either. Lavenda? Even if the poison did wake him up, we don't want to poison an ally right before a tournament. Bergamo?_

 _..._

 _Light bulb._

Basil excitedly skipped over to Bergamo and Hyssop, whispering his plan into both of their ears. Hyssop reacted with an appreciative head nod, while Bergamo's eyes widened with intrigue.

"You know what?" he asked, cracking a smile at his youngest brother. "It just might be crazy enough to work. Let's give it a try."

Basil pumped his fist in triumph, grabbed Bergamo by the shoulders and kneed him in the abdomen as hard as he could. Bergamo choked out a grunt of pain and fell to his knees, causing the rest of the group to stop what they were doing and jerk their heads around towards the source of the cry.

"Basil, you dumb galoot! What the heck did you do that for?!" cried Roselle. "I oughta-"

But Roselle shut his mouth as soon as he saw what Bergamo did next. The knee-shaped imprint in Bergamo's stomach started to glow a deep crimson, which soon spread to the rest of his body. With his jowls curled up into a smirk, Bergamo brushed himself off and rose to his feet. A rumbling sound emanated throughout the village as Bergamo's body swelled in size, gaining a half foot in both height and width. By the time the rumbling subsided, he was at Hyssop's eye level.

"Nice shot," he said, smiling down at Basil. "Your turn, Hyssop."

Hyssop shrugged, pulled back his fist and hammered Bergamo in the chest. The glow returned, as did the tremors, and Bergamo added another foot to his height.

"Beautiful!" roared Bergamo, punctuating his cry with a howl of ecstasy. The sized up Bergamo turned to face the rest of the group, leering at them and licking his chops.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Come over here and give me your best shot!"

The other team members complied, rushing over to their leader and taking turns pulverizing his ever-growing body. With every blow, he towered higher and higher over them, and the tremors grew stronger and stronger. By the time Hop had taken the final turn, Bergamo stood at a gargantuan height of fifty feet.

"I believe that will be enough," he boomed, motioning for the group to stop. He then walked over towards Chappil, causing the ground to shake with each step, as the villagers looked on in complete and utter bewilderment.

Without a word, Bergamo bent down, placed himself on his knees, coiled his massive paw around Chappil's body and lifted him up. As expected, the draconic warrior was still fast asleep, as even Bergamo's thundering footsteps failed to stir him.

 _I hope this works..._

Bergamo took a deep breath to ready himself for the task, causing his titanic chest to swell and contract. He then took Chappil, raised him into the air, and started whacking his head against the ground.

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" he bellowed. Everyone in the vicinity cringed, both from the noise of Bergamo's yelling and that of Chappil's head clanging against the ground. After about twenty to thirty whacks, he was interrupted by a deep, irate-sounding baritone voice:

"I'm up! I'm up! Put me down!"

Bergamo stopped himself cold, letting out a sheepish chuckle. "Oh, um, wonderful," was all he could manage to say as he set Chappil back on the ground.

"I trust there's a reason why you so rudely interrupted my sleep," said Chappil, crossing his arms.

"Yes, there is," said Bergamo, as he began to shrink back to normal size. "And I sincerely apologize. But I'm leading an intergalactic team of warriors, set to represent Universe 9 in a multiversal tournament. We've been looking for our tenth member, and we would be honored to have you fill that slot. Would you be so kind?"

Chappil scratched his sizable chin, mulling over Bergamo's request. "Hmm... it _clearly_ means a lot to you, and I there wasn't anything else I planned to do today. Well, except for sleeping, but I think we can forget about that."

He walked forward, grabbed the now normal sized Bergamo by the paw and gave it a shake. "You've got yourself a teammate."

Bergamo grinned, patting the new recruit on the shoulder. "I promise we'll make it up to you when all of this is over," he said. "I'm not sure how, but-"

"Greetings, Trio."

Bergamo was cut off by the sound of an all-too-familiar voice from a few yards away. He and the group whipped around and saw, to their shock, the angel Mojito standing in the middle of the village, with Sidra by his side. As it happened, Bergamo had created such a spectacle and caused such a din that he and the rest of the team failed to notice the arrival of the two deities.

"M-M-Mojito!" stammered Bergamo, as he and the rest of the group fell to their knees and bowed. "I... what a pleasant sur-"

"It appears that your four hours are up," said Mojito, staring obliquely at his timepiece. "But I'm impressed. It seems that you've assembled quite the entourage in that time."

He then pointed at each warrior in rapid succession, counting them off to himself. "Seven, eight, nine... ten. Ten warriors."

Mojito and Sidra smiled warmly at the ten of them, and motioned for them to rise. "I'm very proud of you three," said Sidra. "I wasn't so sure that you could pull this mission off, and I couldn't be happier that you proved me wrong."

Mojito rammed his staff into the ground, and a circle of light expanded outward from the point of impact. "Come," he said. "We can't afford to wait a second longer. You know how much the Omni-King hates to be kept waiting."

All of the warriors scurried into the circle - with the exception of Roselle, who just stood there with a vacant stare. He was snapped out of his daze when Comfrey whistled for him to come hither.

"Wait, I'm coming too?!" cried Roselle. "I thought I was just- MMMPH!"

Lavenda dashed over, clamped a paw over Roselle's mouth and dragged him into the circle. "Don't mind him," he said to Mojito, glaring at the creature. Mojito responded with a simple shrug and a smirk, and sent the ten of them rocketing into space.

And so, after a chaotic, dense four hours, the Trio de Dangers assembled a proud team of diverse, competent, passionate warriors.

The Wily Sorrel.

The Wise Oregano.

The Hulking Hyssop.

The Shrewd Comfrey.

The Helpful Roselle.

The Sadistic Hop.

And the Immovable Chappil.

* * *

With their powers combined, they would undoubtedly play a major role in the Tournament of Power and last a great deal of time...

...or, rather, they would have, if they hadn't decided, in their infinite wisdom, to home in on the strongest team in the arena at the very beginning of the tournament. This, predictably, did not end well for them, and their entire universe was erased from existence in the first few minutes. Furthermore, the Trio de Dangers had neglected to tell any of their recruits that the universe was at stake; the hapless warriors barely had time to cry, "Wait, what?!" before they were wiped from the plane of existence.

Fortunately, the last surviving fighter of the tournament, Android #17 of Universe 7, was granted one wish from Super Shenron as a prize, and he was generous enough to use it to bring every other universe back into reality. As relieved as they were, the Trio de Dangers, Sidra and Mojito would have an awful lot of explaining to do to the rest of the team once they returned to Planet Parika.

But that's another story for another time.

 _ **The End**_


End file.
